


Cake #1

by megazorzz



Series: The Ronin, the Cafe and the Coffee Plant [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira is 19, Anal Play, Anilingus, Anniversary, Bottom Sakamoto Ryuji, Café, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Happy Birthday Ryuji, Living Together, M/M, PWP, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Rimming, Ryuji is 18, Shower Sex, Top Akira, University, You gotta wash before you play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megazorzz/pseuds/megazorzz
Summary: Two years after they first met, Akira and Ryuji were now living together while balancing a business and their studies. Their anniversary (according to Akira) was quickly approaching. Ryuji didn't seem to remember, but that wouldn't stop him from giving Ryuji a special treat.Written in celebration of Ryuji's birthday. Happy Birthday, Best Boy!*  *  *  *  *This can be read as a loose sequel to my fic "Learning to Touch Again," though that isn't necessary to read before this one.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: The Ronin, the Cafe and the Coffee Plant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814377
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Cake #1

“Where’d ya hear about something like that?” Ryuji asked, eyes wide.

“One of the guys in my club was talking about it.” He rested his chin on his arms, studying Ryuji from his side of the bed.

“I’m still shocked that there’s a LGBT club at your uni in the first place. Didn’t think there’d be guys like us there.”

“Like us?”

“You know… _gaaayy._ ”

Akira chuckled. It was a start. “Gay guys can get degrees, Ryuji.”

“Well you are the smartest gay guy I know,” Ryuji chuckled.

“You’re going too, though!”

“I guess you’re right.”

They watched each other, waiting for the other to broach the topic once more.

“You never thought about trying it?” Akira moved closer.

“It’s just…it sounds weird…did it feel good, though? Did your club buddy say?”

“ _Oh,_ so you’re wondering how it feels already.”

Ryuji blushed and covered his face with his pillow. “I mean—I like bottoming and stuff. I don’t know, I never thought about asking you to put your mouth _there._ ” He glanced at Akira. He could tell that Ryuji was giving it a go in his thoughts. “Anyways, you’re avoidin’ the question!”

Akira tucked his arms behind his head and gazed out the window. “He wasn’t the one receiving. He was giving.”

“What? What’s in it for him then? I mean—on bottom I can see some kinda plus at least. What does the top dude get outta it?”

Akira rolled over closer to Ryuji and licked his lips. Ryuji closed the distance with a long kiss. He felt the movement of his lips and that runner’s heart begin to pump. It was so easy to get him riled up.

“That.”

“Huh?”

“I like being close to you: feeling how you react, letting me know that I’m doing things that make you feel good. Those sounds you make.”

Ryuji blushed. “You’re getting that look on your face again.”

“Do you want to try it? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Ryuji studied him with his warm brown eyes. His legs shifted beneath the comforter—a little tic. He got antsy when he got aroused.

“Can I think about it.”

“Of course. Take your time,” Akira said with a smile. “Let’s go fix dinner.”

* * *

“Akira, I’m on the phone with the coffee guys. They wanna know if we can pick it up instead?”

“When did they say they were free?”

“April 11th…so this week! They have to go out of town soon, so they don’t have time to come down and drop ‘em off.”

Akira paused and turned away from his stock tallying sheet. Ryuji held his smartphone against his aproned chest, seemingly totally oblivious.

“What does April 11th look like for you?” Akira asked, heavy with subtext.

“Well I got class orientation that day. Do you think you could do it?”

“I can swing it, but I wouldn’t be back until the evening most likely.”

“What’s the problem?” Ryuji asked, cocking his head.

Akira shook his head. “Forget it. I’ll go.”

“Sweet. It’ll be good if we can get the plant for Haru’s gardening workshop.” Before Akira could respond, Ryuji confirmed it with their supplier and hung up. “I really appreciate it, dude. I’ve been so on the fence about orientation—but this way I have to go.”

“Yeah, no problem. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” On the wall opposite the coffee bar was a calendar hand-painted by Yusuke. He had circled April 11th a few weeks prior. Now and then, he saw Ryuji glance at it; he thought that Ryuji knew the significance, but he supposed not.

He and Ryuji continued their stocking tasks, tallying their bulk supplies, checking dates, estimating restocks, and compiling the weeks receipts for their bookkeeper, who Haru had the foresight to hire. He watched Ryuji scribble dates and reminders in his beat-up calendar, still amazed that the chaotic system therein kept him on track.

He got his attention and hugged him from behind as he was going through the pantry. It took a bit of getting used to, but Ryuji got into the rhythm of running the café just fine. He supposed it was that track team discipline and a desire to make things work.

Despite that, when he glanced at April 11th in Ryuji’s calendar, he only found a reminder about the coffee plant.

* * *

He woke early, untangled himself from Ryuji, slipped out of bed shortly after sunrise and began his morning. The calendar read April 11th, the day he met Ryuji before school two years prior. The day they plunged into the world of personas and Phantom Thieves.

Ryuji snored as he dressed and grabbed his receipts for their specially bred coffee plant. The constituent breeds were more Haru’s favorite than their customers’, but he didn’t mind taking the lead on rearing it. They were pretty indebted to her, after all: an apartment and jobs pretty much fell into their laps and at the perfect time.

The alarm was set for Ryuji’s orientation for school—he hadn’t forgotten _that_ , at least. He was so proud of him, his _ronin_. Even though that title followed him around at cram school, he never let it get him down. When did Ryuji become such a fine young man? He passed the calendar with its big red circle around April 11th, and set out to the station.

As the train hummed and clattered down the tracks, he wondered what their balance would be like with working the café and studying. His own classes would start up soon enough and the LGBT club he helped organize would take up time too. They would make it work, he supposed.

Getting off near the end of the line, he began his walk to the breeder’s hut, which stood off a winding dirt road, past some small rice paddies and a slower way of life. The elderly couple greeted him outside, showering him with appreciation for his going out of the way. They had a cup of tea waiting and he sat with them.

“We really appreciate your coming out on such short notice. Our grand-daughter is getting married—on the day of the original delivery no less.”

“Our van is still in the shop as well. Hopefully it will be done in time,” his wife fretted.

She cleared their empty cups and led him to the back. The coffee plant was sprouting and looked healthy, yet delicate—definitely something that they couldn’t just send in the mail.

He rode all the way back into town. He passed a bakery on his way back. He decided on a little treat to mark the occasion. It required some deliberation: it couldn’t be so elaborate as to make Ryuji guilty for forgetting the date, but not so simple as to bring the validity of own remembrance into question.

He decided on a bevy of cream buns and carried them and their soon-to-be thriving coffee plant back to the café. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Ryuji waited for him just inside the doorway. He wore nothing but an apron.

“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” Ryuji asked slyly.

Akira’s glasses fogged up. The apron clung to Ryuji’s muscular figure and gathered between his legs. On his lap was a little chocolate cake. “Cake #2” was written in wobbly, chocolate icing.

“Where’s cake #1?”

“U-upstairs,” Ryuji said, putting on clumsy seductive airs. Akira gave him a blank stare. “…It sounded better in my head.”

Akira walked straight up to him. “Nah, it did the trick. I wanna touch you all over.”

“Score. Follow me!”

He was shocked when Ryuji led him straight into the bathroom. “What?” he asked a quizzical Akira. “I’m still all gross from ice-breakers and commuting to and from school. I wanna do this right.”

“What does ‘do this right’ mean?”

“I-I haven’t done this before, dude! I just need a warm-up. Now get in the shower. I’ll be right there.”

Akira did as he was told and began running the water to warm it up. Through the glossy curtain he saw Ryuji approach, his gait, his tan lines, that particular saunter for when he was warming up to touch.

He drew back the curtain and stepped in, planting a kiss on him as he moved into the hot jet of water.

His skin grew flushed. He loved that about him—his penchant for getting worked up. Their limbs slid down one another’s. Ryuji turned to face the tile, watching him over his shoulder.

“C-come on, man. Don’t leave me hangin’,” Ryuji said.

Akira’s finger traveled from his jaw line past the winding peaks of his lats to the pinch between his shoulder blades. Wandering down the crease of his back and down to the dimpled peaks of his ass, Ryuji’s hands struggled to find leverage against the ceramic tile. The water flowed onward. His knee jiggled.

“More?” Akira said under his breath, his voice reverberating across the steaming air. The crumpled clothes at the base of the tub grew moist and heavy in the steam. Ryuji nodded and pressed his forehead against the hot tile, feeling the fingers slide and lace in his own, gripping them with all their might—Akira’s old dagger hand turned gardening hand turned coffee grinding hand.

Two pumps of the soap dispenser and Ryuji in some Pavlovian response arched his lower back. Akira traced his tan lines, leaving froth and foam. His legs spread wider.

He tickled him in the space between his legs, moving backwards and forwards. Soap dripped down his legs, swept into the swirling torrent of the drain. Akira moved in, mouthing along the nape of his neck, seeing the goosebumps preen and rise, glistening like scales as water rushed over them.

“Going in,” Akira came up for air to say.

Sweeping between his cheeks, he gathered froth and vigor, slowly circling Ryuji’s hole. A soft whimper became a tremor that bounced off the walls, every lilt magnified. His index finger massaged the tender, private skin.

“D-dude,” Ryuji gasped.

His muscle dribbled into mush. Ryuji pushed his ass out more, hand darting down to open and reveal himself. Akira began his gentle pushes, unfurling and unwinding Ryuji beneath him. He pumped more soap into his palm, sweeping from between his legs to the top of the cleft. Ryuji breathed hard as more soap bubbled and spurt inside him.

A finger dipped inside, rubbing in and out—cleaning and dirtying him at the same time. Ryuji bit his lip, grunts vibrating off the walls. He could feel the slight arch of his fingers. The joints rubbed against his rim, sliding in and with mounting pressure.

“More,” Ryuji managed.

He pulled out and two fingerprints left their mark on his hole. He widened; he almost forgot to breathe until Akira asked him to. More soap lathered between his cheeks. The tip of Akira’s cock grazed the back of his thigh. He jumped.

Akira stopped immediately. “Something wrong?”

Ryuji only turned around. He smiled and shook his head. He gave himself a quick stroke. His precum circled the drain.

“Should be enough for the main event right?” He stepped forward, putting his back toward the stream. White frothing soap ran in hot rivulets down his legs. He approached Akira with mouth open, sharing the taste of coffee still on his tongue.

Their cocks batted and grazed one another. Akira gave them a healthy jerk as Ryuji cleared the last of the soap away.

The water stopped running and through billowing, gathered steam, their breathing blended and meshed. Akira was already close, but practiced restraint and pulled Ryuji out of the shower. He grabbed a fluffy towel and gathered Ryuji’s dripping blonde hair in it, giving him a playful drying.

Once dry he led him by the hand to their bed. Sun slanted against the bright duvet cover.

“Which way?” Ryuji asked.

He turned him away and guided him to rest on his front, his torso draped over the bed and bent at the waist. He grabbed the nearest pillow and slotted himself between his legs, which slowly opened up as Akira took his place.

“Cake #1 looks good,” Akira said. The sun illuminated the light dusting of hair that spread across each cheek. He smelled sweet with just the hint of sweat and musk. He smelled of Ryuji: the tang of sweat, the sweetness of their soap, that delicate musk. He couldn’t get enough. He placed his hands near the tan lines that Ryuji’s tiny running shorts left behind and eased his cheeks open. Ryuji hugged a pillow to his chest as Akira slowly made his way closer, his breath warming the crevasse as he moved just close enough for it to gather and warm Ryuji’s twitching hole.

He bucked up and gave the mattress a light hump in response to the heat.

“Dude,” he murmured.

“I’m not even touching you yet,” Akira replied.

“For real? Feels good already.”

He drew even closer, blowing warm air on Ryuji’s hole after separating his cheeks. He slicked his hair back, dipping down near his sack and giving a tender lick. The covers wrinkled in his grip. Ryuji was so sensitive. He nibbled and kissed from the base up and up until he was face-to-face with his hole. He licked his lips and pressed them to Ryuji. His lips moved in minute and subtle patterns—Ryuji would be even more sensitive here. The small movements had a butterfly effect on the rest of his body. He whimpered at the head of the bed, urging him to continue.

He stuck out his tongue, licking a languid, wobbly circle around his hole. Ryuji’s back arched and he hissed at the contact. “Oh man,” he groaned. Akira doubled his efforts, sticking his tongue further out and massaging his hole, drawing out whimpers and shudders as he worked.

He pulled back and blew air on it. He reached between Ryuji’s legs and drew his cock back so it hung over the edge of the bed. He slipped the head into his mouth, tasting the salty precum.

“Damn, why didn’t I know about this earlier?” Ryuji moaned.

“I’m learning interesting things at university, wouldn’t you say?” Akira said before licking long strips up his shaft.

He gently grasped him by the shoulders and flipped him over so he would be on his back.

“Hold up your legs,” he suggested. At his beckoning, Ryuji hooked his arms beneath his knees and stretched up, spreading his cheeks. Akira wasted no time, and dove back in, licking with more vigor and excitement, pulling up to gaze at Ryuji’s flushed face and the strands of precum crisscrossing his stomach. His tongue swirled over his hole, the entire area wet with his spit and breath. He stuck out his tongue as far as it would go, pushing past the furl and inside Ryuji. His toes curled and his breath hitched in his throat. He let go of a leg and clamped the back of Akira’s head, pushing him toward his hole.

“Shit, dude. Don’t stop.”

His lips and tongue worked rapidly. Reaching between Ryuji’s thighs and taking his cock, Akira focused on the vibration of his skin and the now continuous whimpers. He tasted the tang of soap that escaped their rinse, but he didn’t care. Glancing up, he gazed on Ryuji’s blissed out face.

His tongue circled and swirled. Above him Ryuji’s leg jiggled and twitched. He breathed in deeply. “Dude, I’m close. Don’t stop. Please,” he whimpered. He reached up and gave him a few quick strokes. His cock twitched and he felt Ryuji’s cum ooze over his knuckles, his breathing reduced to shudders.

“HOLY CRAP,” he laughed. “How is that your first time doin’ that? That was good.”

“I’m absolutely flawless,” Akira replied in playful boast. Ryuji smacked him with a pillow. Without thinking, Akira batted it away with the hand he was using to jack off Ryuji.

“Oops,” Akira said.

“Flawless, huh?”

Ryuji leaned forward and touched his forehead against Akira’s. “Not gonna kiss you right now because of where your mouth was, so this will have to do.”

Akira smiled and they proceeded to do some laundry. Ryuji sat on the counter with a slice of cake #2, watching happily as Akira ate his part.

“What’s so special about the 11th anyway?”

“You’re joking.”

Ryuji shook his head, mouth full of cake. He swallowed. “I know it’s special to you. I didn’t forget…but that doesn’t mean I remember.”

“That’s the day we met!” Akira groaned incredulously.

“It’s not like it’s our anniversary.”

“So when’s our anniversary?”

Ryuji shrugged. “I don’t know, dude! One day we were training for Phantom Thieves stuff and the next we were together. It’s not like we sat down and said, ‘Yo! Now we are a couple.’” He set his plate aside. “Besides, we’re here now.”

He stroked Ryuji’s knee, the bad one, the one that experienced all that hurt back at Shujin.

“Yeah. We are. Guess the date doesn't matter so long as you're here.”

Ryuji kissed him, tasting chocolate. "For sure."


End file.
